Winged Fool
by BleuStripes
Summary: It had just been a normal ride home on the Hogwart's Express. Ginevra had arrived home with her family and had been sitting down to a lovely meal. Then... IT had happened. Her family stared at her in horror as she mirrored their reflections. Fear.


AU as of the fourth book. All events that occurred in the Goblet of Fire did occur, but OoTP never happened in my opinion. Complete rubbish to kill off Sirius and I won't be doing the same.

Disclaimer: This is J.K's property, not mine. If it was, I would have a zebra. Sadly, I do not.

Review to give me your honest opinion. I hashed this out in little less than an hour and would like to know if this is even worth continuing onward.

-

Ginevra stared at her reflection morosely. Brown eyes reflected liquid pools of misery. It was all she could do these days, after her return home from her third year at Hogwarts.

Peals of laughter reached her ears, and she cringed as the hollow sound echoed in her room. Too loud. It was always too loud. She sighed and turned away from her reflection.

The room was dim. It was no longer her room, by far; this was hardly even her family now. Wooden boards had been nailed shut over the windows, turning the bright pink of the walls and her faded bed spread muted mauves. The father of this household had cast spells on the wood; spells of repelling, of concealing, of hatred.

Arthur Weasley was a kind man, a man who had only once in his life ever raised his voice. That was before…. IT had happened. The entire time the man was in the room constructing the necessary defenses against HER, he had been screaming at her.

She was an abomination, a sight not to be seen by the eyes of polite society. The wooden stool she sat on creaked underneath her. Her eyes moved over the rubble in her room. The bookshelves that once held her beloved school textbooks had been ripped from the walls; the books themselves had been burnt to blackened ash that still littered her floor.

Her brothers had done it. Every single one of them. Even Bill, her beloved Bill, had laughed at the terror in her eyes has he had set her books aflame. He had even held her close to the searing tower, his brown eyes, his beautiful brown eyes, the very twin to her own, danced in glee at her discomfort and then the pain she felt.

Her lips twisted. She could still feel the pain in the burns she had occurred that terrible, terrible night. Her hands rubbed her face, stroking the phantom pain away.

She had nothing left. Her clothes had been taken, her own mother screaming that she was nothing but a filthy animal and deserved to be treated as such. It wasn't her fault.

The return home from Hogwarts had been so very much like the previous two years. She and her brothers had been greeted ever so warmly by her parents and then ushered off to an unused bit of platform to portkey home. Nothing had been amiss, nothing that should have warned her of the hell that would come that night, of when SHE became IT.

She was startled out of memories by a loud crack through the floorboards. Memories were they? It had only been but two weeks since the return home, since the beginning of summer holidays from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Had it really been such a short time for her position in life to change so abruptly?

The stool she sat on was wobbling again. Paying it no mind, Ginevra brought her eyes back to the mirror she was sitting before. Just like the rest of the room she had once resided in as a member of the Weasley family, the mirror before her had been destroyed as best as it could be. Protected by an Unbreakable Charm that an overprotective mother had cast when she was just a child, the mirror rested against the wall. It was tall and wide, and once been the top to her long dresser. It was no longer part of the dresser, being torn off by Fred and Ron on that dreadful night two weeks ago. George had been busy throwing the drawers and clothes around the room to bother helping his twin.

Still, the mirror was cracked. Spider webs of glass made its way from a lower point in the mirror to where her face met. It wasn't just one Ginevra that looked upon her. It was tens to hundreds of them, the pale brown of her eyes magnified a hundred times, the paleness of her all too white skin a stark contrast to the dingy room.

She shuddered in horror once more at her reflection. She was no longer human, no longer a witch. She was….IT. The pink bed sheet she had scavenged covered the truth from her eyes, but she knew it was there. They all knew it was there.

From below, sounds of laughter and dishes banging from the kitchen echoed through the house. The smell of dinner rose through to reach her, the scent of potatoes and a roast filling her nose. Unbidden, low growls of hunger roared from her stomach. She sighed. She wouldn't be fed tonight.

Her nails scraped across the fabric covering her stomach, in a desperate attempt to silence the noisy organ.

She wouldn't be fed tonight, because tonight was when Hermione and Harry arrived. Molly and Arthur would greet them with enthusiasm to be sure, and with all the boys of the Weasley family there, it would be easy for them to have overlooked the girl that was once a Weasley.

Wobbling beneath her once more, the stool threatened to give out underneath her weight. Shifting cautiously, she hardly breathed as she dared to move her weight to stabilize the stool. Screeching of metal greeted her and chills ran down her spine as that noise shocked her to the core.

She hardly dared to breathe. Was it her imagination, or did the steadily growing din of joy down below pause but for a second? Eyes glanced to see that the cuffs of metal that Arthur (she had begun to refer to him as Arthur. She was not privileged enough, and never would be to ever address him as 'Father' again.) had attached to her ankles that very morning, scrape against the melted remains of the cauldron she had once used.

Would she ever be able to call herself a student of Hogwarts? Would they take her back, when she was like this? Werewolves were one thing, but SHE was something of a completely different nature.

The humming din from below turned to a circus of frenzy. She could hear the fire crackle and pop and then WHOOSH! as two bodies tumbled to the floor.

Her heart stopped.

Harry was here.

Harry was here and she was…was like this. SHE was IT.

The tears that she had sworn she would never cry again coursed down her face as silent sobs wracked her entire body. Three floors, numerous sets of stairs and leaky ceilings below her, Harry Potter was greeted by the red-headed Weasley clan. Ginevra sat upon her stool and shook in silent grief.

She would never be able to have him. SHE was IT.


End file.
